She made such a report of me to her father, that Mr. Oliver himself

accompanied her next evening--a tall, massive-featured, middle-aged,

and grey-headed man, at whose side his lovely daughter looked like a

bright flower near a hoary turret. He appeared a taciturn, and

perhaps a proud personage; but he was very kind to me. The sketch

of Rosamond's portrait pleased him highly: he said I must make a

finished picture of it. He insisted, too, on my coming the next day

to spend the evening at Vale Hall.

I went. I found it a large, handsome residence, showing abundant

evidences of wealth in the proprietor. Rosamond was full of glee

and pleasure all the time I stayed. Her father was affable; and

when he entered into conversation with me after tea, he expressed in

strong terms his approbation of what I had done in Morton school,

and said he only feared, from what he saw and heard, I was too good

for the place, and would soon quit it for one more suitable.

"Indeed," cried Rosamond, "she is clever enough to be a governess in

a high family, papa."

I thought I would far rather be where I am than in any high family

in the land. Mr. Oliver spoke of Mr. Rivers--of the Rivers family--

with great respect. He said it was a very old name in that

neighbourhood; that the ancestors of the house were wealthy; that

all Morton had once belonged to them; that even now he considered

the representative of that house might, if he liked, make an

alliance with the best. He accounted it a pity that so fine and

talented a young man should have formed the design of going out as a

missionary; it was quite throwing a valuable life away. It

appeared, then, that her father would throw no obstacle in the way

of Rosamond's union with St. John. Mr. Oliver evidently regarded

the young clergyman's good birth, old name, and sacred profession as

sufficient compensation for the want of fortune.

It was the 5th of November, and a holiday. My little servant, after

helping me to clean my house, was gone, well satisfied with the fee

of a penny for her aid. All about me was spotless and bright--

scoured floor, polished grate, and well-rubbed chairs. I had also

made myself neat, and had now the afternoon before me to spend as I

would.

The translation of a few pages of German occupied an hour; then I

got my palette and pencils, and fell to the more soothing, because

easier occupation, of completing Rosamond Oliver's miniature. The

head was finished already: there was but the background to tint and

the drapery to shade off; a touch of carmine, too, to add to the

ripe lips--a soft curl here and there to the tresses--a deeper tinge

to the shadow of the lash under the azured eyelid. I was absorbed

in the execution of these nice details, when, after one rapid tap,

my door unclosed, admitting St. John Rivers.




readonlinefreebook.com Copyright 2016 - 2024